#time and I don't have any capacity to handle more of that right now.

[running-in-the-dark]

our dishwasher was delivered today, the oven should be here by Tuesday, and the rest of the kitchen will be here next Friday. I think things are going pretty well, we should have enough room to assemble everything by then. hopefully 🤔

also, I have unfortunately been informed that the very unfriendly man who was here yesterday (was it yesterday? I don't understand time) might have to come back - he works for the company that does the fiber optic cables - before I was told that the (very tall, big, and extremely friendly) electrician would be doing the last thing that needs to be done so that we can get internet, but no, the fibre optic people have to do it. I'm hoping it'll be someone else 🙄 I don't want to let that man into our apartment.

and, some of the other tenants have started moving in now. we saw at least four people moving stuff today. it's gonna be weird not being the only ones in the house, haha

[mellosdrawings]

The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

[ddejavvu]

Omg could we get another part of animagus cat reader and Sirius? Maybe they’re napping together and the boys try to take cat reader as a joke/because they’re curious while she’s sleeping and she suddenly transforms back as they pick her up LOL. Sirius is grumpy to be woken up/have their special time now exposed hehe

part 1

--

Sirius's bedcurtains are drawn, a clear sign that James and Remus should grant him some privacy.

Unfortunately, James Potter has never been one to take hints, and Remus strictly stays out of their shenanigans. It's only when James gasps with the entire capacity of his lungs that Remus peers curiously over at the bed in the corner, intrigue piqued when he finds a newly familiar form curled up on Sirius's chest.

"That cat!" James hisses, and he's particularly lucky that Sirius is laying on his side with your chin nuzzled over his ear, or the boy would have heard him. Instead, it's you that wakes, eyes blinking open wide as you stare at the men staring back down at you.

"Hi, darling," Remus hums softly, reaching out a tentative, scarred hand to hover it near your nose. You don't need any time for inspection before butting your head up against the heel of his palm, and he grants you a warm chuckle and scratches behind your ears. When you're not transformed, the feeling of someone toying with your hair is entirely unwelcome. But now you lean into Remus's touch, slumping relaxed once more over Sirius's ear.

"Stop hogging her," James urges, sticking his own hand less ceremoniously beneath your nose, "I want a turn."

Remus concedes with an exasperated grimace, but lets James take over anyways. He's lucky that you're you and he doesn't even know it, because if he'd tried petting any other cat by jamming his fingers into their neck, he'd be walking away with several scratch marks on his arms. But you forgive him as he tries petting you too similarly to how he pets Sirius in the man's own animagus form, all riling strokes and heavy-handed pats. You let out a soft mewl of protest when he tries picking you up, and Remus mutters something about you being the most patient cat in the world.

"Just leave her alone, James," Remus warns his friend, "Her patience is gonna wear out."

He listens for only a second, then decides he knows best.

"S'alright, Moony," He promises his friend, over-confident and too eager for affection he hasn't earned yet, "She's layin' all over Sirius, clearly wants a cuddle. You snooze, you lose, now it's my turn."

James's hand slides to your underbelly, an area you're not fond of being handled at in this form. Annoyance surges through you, prickling at your fur and making you long for the smooth expanse of your human skin again, an urge that you give into without much thought when James tries prying you off of Sirius's face.

There's a lot of noises at once. A pained yelp from Sirius, when you form suddenly weighs a lot heavier on him than it was when you'd laid down. A 'woah!' from James as your fur gives way to soft skin beneath his hands which he quickly retracts. A soft gasp from Remus who hadn't been expecting the rather unpleasant sound of transforming between bodies.

Two sets of eyes regard you with incredulity, and one blinks slowly beneath you, laden with drowsiness.

"It's you," James breathes, an air of amazement in his voice that shouldn't be there; after all, he's an animagus as well. Surely he should have noticed shifty behavior or a change in mannerisms from you. All of a sudden your preference for Sirius's softer, fluffy sweaters makes sense.

"Yes, it's me." You huff exasperatedly, perched precariously on Sirius's once-sleeping form. He's not pushing you off but you're sure it's not comfortable, so you slide yourself in front of him instead, easing back against him and letting him spoon you.

"Cat's out of the bag," Sirius rasps sleepily beside your ear, and you don't have to look at him to know he's grinning at his rather pitiful joke, "Did he try to pick you up?"

"Right around the stomach," You gripe, glaring at James while Sirius wraps his arm around the very portion of your body you'd just forbidden James from touching, "Like a toddler."

"For the record," Remus calls, "I was nice to you."

"I was nice too!" James gawps, "I just wanted a cuddle."

"Get your own girlfriend," Sirius drawls lazily, his face buried against the back of your head, and maybe it's a biting statement considering one Lily Evans is still firmly opposed to the presence of James in her life. Sirius knows, and amends it, "Or crawl into Moony's bed. I don't care, "Jus' keep your hands off m'girl."

[qqueenofhades]

Do you think Biden's age is an overblown issue? It does to me because like, believe or not, we do intact have a system to take care of this, and all the times we've had to use if before have worked

If Biden dies, Harris takes over

If Biden deteriorates to the point of being unable to perform his duties (personally I consider this unlikely but I digress), Harris invokes the 25th

If Biden feels he can no longer perform his duties he steps down and let's Harris take over

Which is more than I can say for trump or the lunatic he'll choose for a vp

And that last point about Biden stepping down is important, Biden's sharper than people give him credit for, I do think he intends to serve a full term if reelected, but I do think he's also considered the possibility of being reelected, serving a year or two in that term, and then stepping down and letting Harris take over

Of course the thing with Harris is people right now are transparently trying to do to her what they did to Hillary leading up to 2016, and infuriatingly, people either don't see it or they're falling for it again!

It's the most fucking overblown thing ever, and represents the usual insane double standard. The media mentions Biden's age ALL THE TIME, and yet doesn't mention that Trump is just three years younger at 77, demonstrably in far worse physical shape, and clearly on the express train to senility. Whereas Biden is fit, active, bikes, works out, and otherwise is fine. Is he old? Yes. Who cares? He knows how to do the job and he is certainly a hell of a lot healthier than say, Mitch McConnell (81), who has openly frozen up on TV twice and plainly is not well. If it was Biden doing that ONCE, let alone twice, the media would be howling nonstop bloody murder. McConnell? Eh. Footnote.

Also, a lot of the scaremongering about Biden's age is directly related to scaremongering about Harris. If you vote for him and then he doesn't finish his term for whatever reason, A WOMAN OF COLOR WILL BECOME PRESIDENT AND BE IN CHARGE OF THIS COUNTRY!!!! That is the underlying message. Of course there is a system that handles it if the president, God forbid, should happen to die in office. But Oh Noes It's Scary Female Brown Kamala. Do you want to risk your vote for Biden knowing that ____SHEEEEE_____ might end up finishing his term in some capacity!?!?! She is scary! And brown! And female! And brown!!! We can't let her be in charge!!!

Anyway, yeah. It's total BS, and the fact that the media is fanning it as hard as they can means that they can't think of any way to attack Biden on substantive policy or any other legitimate grounds. So they'll just go after the age thing nonstop, and cross their fingers that it works. Which if it did, would mean ending democracy for realsies this time, but as long as they make money, who cares!

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! Can you do something where the villain captured the hero and hurts them to prevent them from escaping? Where the villain is kinda taunting towards the hero after they have injured them, knowing they're the one in control of the hero?

I think there was a similar one to this you posted wayyy earlier but i was just wondering if you could make another one in the same type of style?

(It's dark, just to warn you. Tread carefully.)

"You don't have to do this."

"You didn't have to run," the villain replied. "But we all have our callings, don't we?" Their voice was not unsympathetic. Their eyes were eager. If a stare was capable of taking a bite out of a person, then the villain's would.

Pain throbbed through the hero's ankle where they'd fallen. They weren't remotely convinced it would take their leg if they tried to stand. They edged back another uneasy inch on the floor, nausea clawing up their throat.

"I won't do it again. You've already proven it's useless, that there's no way out of here. Just-"

"-Don't say please, you'll excite me, and then I'll have to hurt you more. It would be regrettable."

The hero's mouth snapped shut.

The villain sighed and crouched down in front of them. They patted the hero's broken ankle, oh so consolingly, forcing the hero to bite back a whimper.

"I was dumb," the hero whispered.

"Oh, yes."

"I've learned my lesson."

"What's the lesson?"

"You're in charge. I - I won't try to run. I'll - I can be good."

"Of course you can, love," the villain said. "We all have a capacity of goodness inside us. Will you be, though?"

"Yes. Oh my god, yes. So you don't have to - I mean, we can both resist our callings, right?" The hero wet their dry, cracked lips. "You don't want to hurt me, yeah? It's - it's regrettable."

"But what if you get dumb again?" the villain asked. "I think it would help you to have a reminder. It's good to reinforce lessons, you know?"

"My ankle-"

"-An excellent reminder not to trip and to watch where you're going. Nothing to do with me."

"Please."

There was a moment of absolute silence.

The hero's heart dropped, with the horrible realisation of what had just left their lips, at the look on the villain's face.

Before, the villain's stare was a bit like taking a bite, sure. In the same way that a shark might take a bite out of an unsuspecting tourist - a little nibble merely to check what they were dealing with. Instinct. Habit. No particular malicious force behind it.

Now...

"I'm sorry," the hero said. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"You're making it so much worse. Stop."

The hero squeezed their eyes shut. That time, the whimper slid free.

The villain leaned in, cupping their chin, pressing a soothing kiss to their forehead.

"It's for the best, pet. Then we won't have to do this again."

"What are you going to do?"

"It's not what I'm going to do," the villain said. "It's what you're going to do."

"Stay put?"

The villain smiled. They gestured to one of their goons, who scurried forward to hand the villain a hammer.

The hero flinched. They braced themselves, already able to imagine the crack of bone, the-

The villain curled the hero's fingers tenderly around the handle.

"Break your leg, dear. We both know I won't be able to stop with just the one if I get started, hm?"

The hero stared at them.

The villain stared back, implacable.

"What?" the hero whispered.

"Well, if it was me, I'd start with the leg so you don't run. But you're stubborn, aren't you? So then I'd have to start wandering about your eyes. Much harder to run without any eyes! Though of course there are still options-"

"-Which leg?"

"Dealers choice!"

The hero tightened their grip on the hammer, hand shaking. They considered their legs. Where might hurt least.

"Ankle okay?"

"For a first offense. I can be kind."

"Okay," the hero said. They exhaled a breath. "Okay."

"Want me to count you in? One, two - oh." The villain whistled as the hero brought the hammer down. Their ears rang with pain. The world tilted. Everything felt too hot, too icy cold. They could vaguely hear the villain still talking, steadying their hand, stroking their abruptly clammy hair from their face. "Nice. Efficient. Now one more time because you said please."

Please. God, please.

But there was no god, only the villain.

The hero brought the hammer down.

It was a relief to wake up, alone, in their cell.

[astrophileous]

ZAHRA I DEMAND (request) A PART TWO OF JEALOUS REID I AM BEGGINGGGGG 🧎‍♀️😩🙏 I am actually in love with the way you write spencer like MY GAWD. MY GAWD.

your request (demand) shall be my command, your majesty 🙏

Warning(s): gn!reader, more jealous spencer bcs apparently it wasn't enough in the first one, a cheesy narration abt "change" 🤢🤢🤢 bcs why not.

This is part two for this blurb.

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

If there was one thing Spencer Reid always found peculiar about mankind, it would be the general lack of acceptance when it came to change.

Before today, Spencer never understood the science behind metathesiophobia: the fear of change. Unpredicted and terrifying as it was, change was necessary to keep the ubiquitous balance of the universe. Change existed in the smallest and biggest capacity of the world, and Spencer, for the life of him, had never been able to berate change for doing exactly what it was intended to do.

Until now.

As Spencer stood next to the copy machine just a few feet away from the kitchenette, eavesdropping a discussion he had no business injecting himself into, Spencer finally understood why many people in the world feared change. The noises coming from the machine in front of him were tumultuous, but Spencer craned his neck and ears to the best of his capabilities just so he could listen in better to the conversation.

"JJ," Spencer heard you say, "I'm telling you, I'm not interested."

"I haven't even told you anything about him yet!"

"Jennifer, it's not about the guy. I'm sure your friend is lovely, but I'm just... not looking for anything like that right now."

"C'mon, (Y/N)," JJ nearly whined. "Please, please, please, just think about this? How long has it been since you broke up with that Bran guy, anyway? You've been single for a while now, don't you think it's finally time for a change?"

Change.

The word tasted bitter as Spencer felt it burn all the way down his throat.

There was a beat of pause where Spencer's heart thundered inside its crate; reeling in suspense over what your answer was going to be. He heard your sigh before your voice arose once more, "Fine. Just text me his number and I'll handle the rest myself, okay?"

Spencer tuned everything out after that, safe for JJ's elated squeal that echoed nearly halfway through the bullpen.

The rest of the day unraveled like a tedious nightmare. After collecting his belongings, Spencer headed out of the bullpen with his car keys in hand. He was waiting for the elevator to arrive, internally cursing his decision for having driven to work that morning, when an unfamiliar voice suddenly appeared behind him.

"You're still here, Doctor?"

Spencer turned around to see you approaching from the direction of Penelope's office. The smile on your face reminded him of cotton candy: soft and sweet; just like the scent of your perfume as it engulfed Spencer's whole being.

"I thought you already left," Spencer muttered.

"No, I had things to take care of. How about you?"

"Yeah. Same."

The elevator arrived with a ding. You walked in after him and pressed the button for the lobby, your scent attacking Spencer's senses even more ruthlessly within the tiny metal box.

"You have any plans for the weekend, Doc?" you asked once the elevator started going down. "A hot date, perhaps?"

Spencer loathed the view of your cheeky smile, along with the teasing gesture of your eyebrows at the suggestion of him going on a date with another person. Here he was, propelling himself to the brink of insanity over the idea of you being on a date with anyone else but him, and you didn't even bat an eye at the prospect of Spencer being with someone else.

"No hot dates for me," he responded. The elevator opened with another ding. "Can't say the same about you, though, can I?"

Your inquisitive gaze slid his way.

"I heard you and JJ in the pantry." Spencer opened the lobby doors, allowing you to walk through before falling into step beside you again. "So, are you going?"

"On the date? I honestly don't know." The night breeze blew against your face. Spencer shuffled closer when he noticed your subtle shiver. "I haven't even texted him yet. I don't feel like it, to be honest. But JJ just seemed so excited about it, so the least I could do is try talking to him first, right?"

An interim silence settled between the two of you. Before long, Spencer spotted his Volvo being parked a few paces ahead. "This is me." Spencer gestured to the car.

"Nice ride." You smiled, humming appreciatively at the vehicle. "Well, I'll get going, then. See you Monday, Doc. Drive safe."

Spencer watched as you started to saunter away. A familiar flame had begun raging and licking up his spine since the moment you mentioned the phrase a hot date in Spencer's face, and now, he could feel that same flame taking a hold of the beating organ inside his chest.

"Don't do it."

You stopped in your tracks.

It took Spencer a few seconds to realize that the interruption had come from him.

"Don't text that guy."

You spun around fully to face him. "Why not?"

"Because I don't think you should go out with him."

You looked at Spencer strangely. "You don't even know the guy."

"I don't need to. I just—" Spencer's jaw hardened, "—I need you to swear to me. Please. Swear you won't go on the date."

Your forehead creased in confusion.

You knew what Spencer was saying didn't make sense, but what perplexed you even more were the words that came out of your mouth next, "Okay. I won't go on the date."

Spencer breathed out his relief as if you just granted him fresh air after years of being buried underground. He gripped his satchel tighter and fiddled with the strap, giving you a curt nod before he slipped inside the driver's seat of his car.

Spencer drove away after that, leaving you standing alone in the middle of Quantico's deserted parking lot as you stared feebly at the tire marks on the ground. A foreign fire had suddenly flickered inside your chest, and even if you didn't understand the significance of it yet, you knew that it must've had something to do with a specific genius profiler who just demanded you to back out of a date that hadn't even been planned yet.

After casting one last look towards his speeding Volvo in the distance, you turned around and headed for your own car, feeling the fire in your ribcage burn brighter with every single one of your steps.

[prof-peach]

It's me again, I'm throwing my two cents in and asking. What are your thoughts on the competitive side of Pokémon caring. or more accurately, Pokémon battles? Especially the gym challenge and the champions themselves? Have you ever tried the gym challange before prof?

While in my youth I did the gym challenges, it all seemed rather staged for me, and i quickly figured out that the gym circuit is built for children, by adults to instil some form of confidence and independance in the youngsters who partake. I swiftly lost interest before completing any of them, but I think my old badges are somewhere, probably rusty by now. The whole organised gym system region to region is a well funded training scheme. Youngsters travel around with pokemon to get to grips with their teams, their independence, and their skills. Gyms offer a challenge to those who never much dipped their toes into the battling world, and many don't partake or bother with it for a whole host of reasons that are all equally valid. It is not a necessity to be a great trainer, nor is it required if you simply dont wish to do it. For most, its a fun challenge, but it does hold relative weight when applying for some job types as an adult, as it proves you can independently shift around and complete a set of tasks of your own volition, using critical problem solving skills on the fly. It has a whole host of benefits, and if you enjoy it and your pokemon enjoy it, then its a great way to earn some cash and blow off some steam!

BUT, that being said, the gym circuit is a tame version of reality. It is a low level set of tasks built to help those not as confident or well versed in battles. Even the more difficult leaders and gyms are playing a role, and while they may have their pokemon trained to a skilled, practiced adults capacity, for the most part they dumb down the fights and make sure they arent impossible for opponents to face. It is meant to be a challenge, not a slaughter, so to speak.

In the real world, people dont always get this safe space to learn how to handle a battle, there is blood, there are injuries, there can be deaths, but in a gym trial, that is harshly reduced, and fatalities are rarely encountered thankfully. With this in mind, I do believe the gym trials are a vital part of some peoples journey, but once you get past them and interact with the real world, where bad guys arent pulling punches like gym leaders do, you realise that you partook in a system that was all soft edges.

the champions and various elietes you encounter are HEAVILY trained guides for peoples journeys, and while some have been dubious, perhaps they slipped through the net, or paid their way into the position, most do the job of training new generations well, and with great precision. It takes a lot to train pokemon to the level they do, and teach with every move. It's a good job, much like any educator, and provides ample reward to see trainers come and go all the more confident and prepared for the real world. The skills it takes to be a gym leader are quite high, as your pokemon have to know when to stop, and how to hit hard, but not TOO hard that you injure opponents. Its a fine line and they walk it well for the most part.

As for the higher tiers of the gym circuits, well, they prove somewhat challenging to anyone on this path, but they too are simply adults hired to do a job, should they show the right aptitude. they get paid, they go home, and most of the time it is simply another form of the education sector.

I personally dont care for it much, but i have a bias others do not, and if i step away from it, its very clear to see that the gyms and the challenges they pose have great benefits for many people and pokemon, and often they offer help and support during times of disaster, such as fires or influx of pests on crops, and the likes. It goes to show they teach people more than how to fight, Alola in particular has a very harmonious balance within its practices, encouraging trainers to do what they can to help the community, without harming too many mons in the process, and to think outside the box when problem solving. Some of the finest trainers come from alola, thanks to their highly adaptive teaching methods.

overall i'd say if you want to partake, go for it! its certainly a safe way to train, but it does not mean you wont be great with pokemon or in a battle if you dont. I certainly never finished them, i know many who never did a single one, and are fantastic trainers. It's a great aid, but not the only way to succeed. So long as you treat your team with care, you research before you get new partners, and you take into consideration their wants FIRST, as their guardians, then youre on the right track. I could go on, but overall everythin gi ever preach comes back to mutual consent and being honest and open with pokemon. They put their faith in us to help them and be their trainers, so we can only try to do our best. If they dont want to fight, pushing them is immoral.

[osakanone]

"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat specialized platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance. 

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

OR

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

--

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

[vintagegeekculture]

There are some books that are functionally boy’s adventure books, but are not advertised as such (Stuart Gibbs is a good example), but I absolutely know what you’re referring to. I have some experience in the public-facing library/bookselling field, so I have a guess at some of the reasons that boy's adventure books are currently out of fashion. 

Shonen anime, and graphic novels trying to cash in on being similar to shonen anime, are currently considered to be the main replacement.

The dual successes of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Captain Underpants are seen as the overall representation of “what boys want to read”. As with any success, middling-to-bad (or at least incredibly cynical) knockoffs are rife. 

Right now, books aimed at boys who have poor experiences around masculinity, or little interest in it, are extremely popular. So any story that celebrates masculinity is going to be looked at as being somewhat dangerous.

If you’re not interested in toilet humor and are a masculine kind of guy, you’re going to be looking at slim pickings.

-------------

P.S. I'm a WWII guy, except for a few years when I was a Spanish-American War guy -- I thought that was the same as having a personality.

Here's my observation on the popularity of Captain Underpants and Dogman: it ties in to an absolutely well understood track for stages of development in boys.

Now, keep in mind that I am not an expert in childhood development or education, but in the past, the reading habits of boys went through three comic book reading stages that maps, roughly, onto their growing capacities as they get older:

Archie/Harvey Comics Stage. This is usually a boy's first comic book, friendly and humorous and childlike. In the past, every boy's first comic is usually Archie, Jughead, or Richie Rich, or Casper the Friendly Ghost, Peanuts, Garfield, or Wendy the Good Little Witch. They like surreal humor, and the absence of concrete thinking and unreality of these books is a positive, as it matches the non-concrete thought processes of young kids, which is why adults often have trouble relating to this: if you ever saw a kid's drawings from this stage, people just float or fly in space, their feet not on the ground, and the sun is often drawn with a face. Notice that kids absolutely accept as a given that Pete and Pete are two brothers with the same name, which is something adults have a problem grasping. If you ever asked yourself why Spongebob Squarepants lives in a pineapple under the sea, of all things, instead of accepting it as a given (of course he lives in a pineapple, what do you expect?), you're probably past this stage.

Superman/Batman Stage. After the Archie/Harvey stage, boys move on to Superman and/or Batman, as their imagination capacities develop, they start to envision adventure and science fiction/other worlds apart from just humorous surrealism. Because they start to experience stories vicariously as their imagination expands to include putting themselves into the story, they tend to start to want adventure and action at this point, power fantasies of muscles, freedom, swordfighting, karate and sweet jump kicks, swinging over a rickety bridge with a rope, and wrestling a monkey (this is also the age that in decades past, boys got obsessed with Tarzan, and in more recent times, got into Adventure Time, a show about two brothers with no parents). All this is mingled with fantasy and science fiction as the ability to think in terms of other worlds and places emerges, but they still prefer pro-wrestling like good and evil as clearly delineated, as their moral reasoning is not super well developed. There are female villainesses in stories at this level, and their master plan is often to get the hero laid, which is a sign of evil instead of good. The fact that Batman and Superman seem to always have all the answers and win cleanly is a plus at this stage, since stories are lived vicariously as opposed to handled and seen with distance. Some people don't move past this stage, and you can usually identify these people because as they identify closely with a main character's state and emotions, put a book down when things get bad for the main character, and often say things like "wow, why does this writer like killing off characters or making them suffer?"

X-Men Stage. After a phase of being into Superman and Batman, most kids move on to an X-Men phase, usually by 6th Grade, but it depends on the kid. They start to be aware of society and the individual, and with that, in the case of many, comes an awareness of being on the outside looking in, so themes of being an outsider, rebel, and alienation start to be important. This is the stage your kids start to turn into little jerks who mouth off to you, and the reason why is the same reason kids (usually) move on from Superman to X-Men: it's the era that kids start to develop moral reasoning, a muscle they flex and apply to every aspect of their life and play with like a new toy. They probably aren't able to articulate it this way, but they like the idea of conflict with society, rebellion (as they are conscious of an individual and society for the first time), and even the idea of moral dilemmas. Also, because boys are going through puberty at this point, they start to find girls interesting, which is why the X-Women like Rogue, Storm, Marvel Girl, and Psylocke were so much more alluring and appealing than Lois Lane and Betty and Veronica. They also start to be aware of status for the first time, a person's relationship in comparison to others, something younger kids are only barely cognizant of, which is why they like things being hardboiled and "cool."

You could, for more modern times, update this list of stages to the Spongebob Stage, Adventure Time Stage, and Jojo/One Piece Stage. In the 1950s, the trajectory would be Tom Swift and other "boy with a helicopter" stories, then boyish gee-whiz adventure writers like H.G. Wells and Jules Verne, and finally, big-idea, believable guys like Heinlein and Asimov by age 12-14. The exact content is not important, the developmental stages in boys are.

If you're a Star Trek fan as a kid, Captain Kirk is usually your favorite character early on (in the Superman/Batman stage), where you vicariously experience and enjoy his coolness and ace-status (as a kid, I thought Captain Kirk was cooler than all the comic book superheroes put together), and then it usually becomes Spock as you get older and start to relate to his alienation and the fact he is different from everyone else. Star Trek deserves some genius prize because it has the adventure, cool monsters, and moral framework to appeal to kids at the Superman stage, but then grows up with them with dilemmas and big ideas as they enter the X-Men stage.

I do believe the reason Harry Potter has such a fan following is the books grow up with you. Harry Potter started off whimsical and charming (Harvey/Archie Stage), then became about adventure and good versus evil (Superman/Batman Stage) then was about moody teenagers, where the heroes are outlaws on the run from the clueless government and pair off with each other in love stories (X-Men Stage).

There are bound to be problems when something aims at one stage but has fans of the other. Hulk Hogan and John Cena are often hated by a certain kind of wrestling fan because they are Batman/Superman heroes kids love because they experience their strength and indomitability vicariously, and only grow to prefer the X-Men-like "cool rebel" Rock and Stone Cold later on. You don't like John Cena, or Superman, because he's not for you.

Now, all that said, when you talk about how boys don't move past Dogman, the Archie/Harvey Comics is the stage of development you're talking about, that books like Captain Underpants, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and Dogman operate at. And the reason they seem to be dominant is that boys stop reading after the Archie stage. In other words, in my opinion, you're confusing effect with cause: they have nothing for them except manga after this point as most boys stop reading entirely past the Archie/Harvey Comics stage.

Why? Your guess is as good as mine, it is simply the largest and underdiscussed social problem of our time, boys stop reading and often never read again. "Young Adult" essentially means girl's books now.

The reason why nobody is examining this issue is simple: men's rights advocates are not particularly concerned with helping boys, but more with bitterly whining about ex girlfriends and gripes with the family court system. So when a legitimate social issue happens that affects boys disproportionately (the fact boys stop reading entirely around age 9-10 and never read a book again in their lives) they have nothing to say and are not particularly interested in the issue.

As someone with a concern and interest in helping boys, I was initially very sympathetic to the Men's Rights idea that society leaves them behind, and it does happen more or less as they say it does: society lets them slip through the cracks, especially in the school system, where they are seen as a problem to be solved, especially when high spirited (normal). However, there was very little sympathy in that group for boys who were physically abused and beaten by parents. Most believe in corporeal punishment, as they care less about boys and more about the primacy of paternal authority - just as you'd expect from bitter, divorced dad, malicious pieces of shit. And boys being molested is often treated as a joke, and not with the seriousness and primacy the issue deserves.

Likewise, despite the talk of feminism helping men, women's rights are not especially concerned with helping boys either, because...well, why would they be? It also doesn't help that the leadership and vanguard (though not necessarily the rank and file or activist base) of women's rights movements are usually professional, striving educated women (a group with high rates of sociopathy and reduced empathy) so their focus is on access to elite institutions and professions. This is more especially obvious in the UK than in the US, where feminism is more explicitly linked to class, as one can see with JK Rowling. As a consequence of this, #MeToo was not about waitresses or gig workers who endure horrible harassment, but about access to elite institutions. There's a reason why when we picture sexual harassment, it's in business suits at a law firm, and not a diner waitress bothered by creeps or her manager.

I will say this: I am very heartened that #MeToo and activism and so on are now starting to include boys who were molested. Very few changes in our culture have been positive and that is one. There's a reason male survivors of sexual abuse and molestation keep their head down, were not included as a part of #MeToo initially, and that is starting to change. Self blame and guilt is a part of every abuse victim, but it is especially crushingly intense with boys too young to understand, and who are trained to endure and not ask for help from male friends.

[luveline]

suicide warning (vent but more introspective than anything) (please don't read if it will upset or distress you, I am in no danger nor will I be in the future)

I'm sure I'll regret talking about this but I've been having this really weird feeling lately. I used to be very suicidal for a long time when I was growing up, and then it got lesser, but for a while there was nothing I wanted so much as to kill myself, and now I'm much better than that thanks to being granted the space and time to get better and the support and love of my few friends and family, but it's been on my mind a lot lately too. I am not going to hurt myself in any capacity, but I guess I feel like there's nothing for me. I used to want to die as like, a response to needing to escape, and then it was because I couldn't handle the extreme anxiety I was experiencing, but these days I don't feel I need to escape where I am nor do I get so achingly anxious, but there is this unamed absence. I don't want to move forward anymore, because I feel like there's nothing to move forward into, I think? I don't have much passion for anything but that isn't me saying I'm not happy! Because I'm so happy when I'm talking to my friend or when I'm with my sisters, but by myself I don't want to really go on. I think I'm wondering if other people know what i mean? I know I've spoken on here before about the loneliness I was suffering with, and I know now that I'm not alone in that. But I don't know if it's normal to feel this way. It's starkly different to how I wanted to hurt myself in the past. I never would, because I love my family and I don't want to hurt them, and I don't believe there's nothing to live for. But not much, either.

I'm not sure if it's dissatisfaction, or I'm just having a moment, but now I finally have all the things I was striving for but couldn't maintain when I was suicidal, a job and education and general wellness, I can't help noticing that there's still something wrong. I'm worried that it's just me, and that I'm gonna feel this way because I am this way. I'm really worried I have nothing to offer to the world or my family and I think I've been trying to compensate for that with the wrong things. Right now I am struggling to feel a connection to everything, or a desire to do one particular thing, is this a common feeling? Not to be silly but is it just depression, or is it nothing like that? I don't want to do anything anymore besides sit in bed, but I'm constantly aware of time passing, and even when I'm in bed I don't actually want to be in bed, I want to distract myself, but I don't enjoy any of the distractions. I guess, altogether, in one big sum up, I feel like I have no value as a person and that my life has nothing for me either.

Again though, I am not in any danger of hurting myself or doing anything like that and this isn't meant to worry anybody, I'm hoping someone knows what I'm feeling is all

[drpeppertummy]

epic teddy post-werewoof tummyache event

[post-extreme stuffing, bellyache, belly rubs, a hint of burst teasing]

"Teddy! Teddy, wake up!"

Teddy groaned, his limp hands instinctively going to his belly. His belly was the first thing he could feel, aching sharply, nearly bursting, stuffed well beyond capacity with god knows what. He felt damp grass under his back, a warm hand patting his cheek. Cool breeze, hot sun. A ladybug crawling over his bare leg. Messy hair clinging to his clammy face. Dried mud on his feet. And his belly, drum-tight under his hands, bulging hard against his normally loose shirt, pulling it taut around his distended middle and straining the buttons.

"Teddy, can you hear me?" He opened his eyes, then shut them again, wincing at the harsh sunlight. It was Luna, of course; he didn't need to see her to know that. He opened his bone-dry mouth to respond and a strained burp came out instead, leaving a foul taste in the back of his throat. He grimaced. He felt a cautious hand on his belly and a pained whimper escaped him; even that tiny bit of pressure was too much. The hand pulled away quickly.

"Jesus, Teddy, what did you eat?" That was a good question. He had no idea. He knew that whatever it was had been more than enough to fill a stomach larger than the one he had now, leaving his poor human tummy stuffed to bursting with heaps of meat and bones and garbage and whatever else he'd eaten in his ravenous werewolf state. He vaguely remembered how it had felt to change back, his belly stretching and straining around the massive meal as he shrank back down, aching horribly as his stomach struggled desperately not to split open.

"Oh, my belly," he moaned, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah, no shit, your belly. You look like you're about to explode. Can you move?"

"Do I have to?" He squinted up at her. She was still in her pajamas, likely having come out to look for him when she realized he wasn't home.

"I guess not," she said. "You're in the yard. Probably better if you don't, honestly." He couldn't argue with that. He didn't think his tightly-straining belly could handle any movement right now. He was so full he could barely breathe; moving was out of the question. Luna gently placed both hands on his belly again. It was rock solid, pushing out hard, bulging at the sides, twitching softly with each shallow breath.

"Listen, Teddy, I know it hurts, but I think your tummy needs some help," she said, rubbing carefully. Again, he couldn't argue. It didn't feel like his overtaxed stomach was digesting anything, too overwhelmed by the absurd quantity of food inside it to break anything down. If he left everything sitting in there undigested for too long, it might start to ferment inside him, and then he really might burst. The thought made him feel a little ill. As Luna cautiously massaged, though, the unbearable pressure began to ease up, albeit very, very slowly. His belly gurgled and groaned as it finally began to wake up and work at the jumble of poorly-chewed clutter.

"Is it getting any better?" asked Luna, still rubbing, pressing in as gently as she could as she tried to knead some life into his stomach.

"A little," said Teddy. A big gurgle rumbled up inside him, and he burped. It didn't help much, but it certainly didn't hurt, either.

"We're gonna have to start locking you up or something," she said. "Your poor belly can't take this kind of abuse." He looked away sheepishly, and she gently ruffled his hair.

"Hey, don't look so glum. You're not gonna explode today." She gave his distended side an affectionate pat. "We'll have you up and moving again in no time, then you can come inside and get some rest, alright?"

"Alright," agreed Teddy, smiling meekly. "Thanks, Luna."

[goodolddumbbanana]

There are so many things to analyse for today's episode, omg.

Especially the way Dark Sun talks with Sun.

Something very endearing about how, Dark Sun, like I said before, still thinks of himself as Sun. Like, instead of distinguishing himself and Sun, or think of himself as more superior like Moon with Nexus, I feel like he sees Sun as a past version of himself, the one who hasn't got tired of Moon yet, the one who still naive.

"I am speaking of myself, for myself..."

"He isn't at that level... Yet"

"I can't believe how naive I was..."

He never talks bad about Sun's intelligence, never in every single episode when Dark Sun shows up.

"... Unlike you, I don't hold such bad manners about my name.."

"... And Sun was preoccupied..."

When he talked with Puppet, when he mentioned about Sun, he never said Sun is not important because he is dumb. No, what he said was Sun's focus was in another place back then.

Lunar, Moon, Nexus, Puppet... A Lot of people even if they are Sun's family or they care and love Sun, they still usually look down at Sun's capacity or intelligent. Even Moon, sure, he is much nicer than he is back then, but he still thinks Sun is a bad actor and doesn't believe in Sun's capacity to handle himself, or to fool Ruin.

He only criticises Sun's naivety, or Sun's lack of confidence in learning everything.

Sun is not stupid, of course. But his trauma makes his head blank and he gives up on things very fast. Like the thing with magic, portal or things with machines. He even gives up to save Moon because he doesn't think he can cast magic.

The only time he keeps going, the only time he tries to find things his way and never gives up and try to find solutions is the time he tries to kill Eclipse v2.

It does not end well.

It seems like, the way Dark Sun sees Sun, is like the parent seeing their kid doesn't live up for its potential.

"I hope the next time we meet, you will grow a spine, Sun."

That is what I don't understand. Or hardly understand that term. Why, Dark Sun said that to Sun, when obviously, Sun doesn't put up with any of his bullshit.

Like, Dark Sun wants Sun to open his eyes, but...? It doesn't make any sense!!? Unless, Dark Sun wants Sun to see his way and choose his way? Dark Sun wants Sun to be more active? Or, he wants Sun to eat Moon's brain?

Just like how in Nothing happens dimension, sun sees NHD! Sun is naive and doesn't have any backbone by how Moon treats This Sun. Does it mean, what Dark Sun implied is... Sun needs to be more aggressive and try to do things his way?

They are obviously machines. By that count, Sun can be upgraded to be more intelligent than he is by now. But he chooses not too, or he doesn't think any of that, because he is scared.

When Sun is terrified, he usually just freezes. He doesn't know if the way he decides things, will make it worse or not. And with how anxious and failure he built up in these years, to grow day by day, I don't blame him for being like that.

Still, there is something very intriguing about how Dark Sun speaks with Sun with that level of patience, or such gentle manners we only see nearly, not enough, on Foxy.

Sideline: I hate that Dark Sun doesn't argue back when Moon said he doesn't see Nexus as his brother. Because it can interfere with many things.

1. Moon is right, Nexus is only a tool and Dark Sun only uses him. But because Dark Sun hates to see Moon being right, he directed the conversation and threw it out of the window.

2. Deep inside, Dark Sun truly thinks of Nexus as his brother, the one he makes, the one who stayed with him. He still uses him though.

3. 1 and 2 combined.

Or I just think too deep and I hope it doesn't happen.

[blue-slxt]

Tame Me

🔞Minors, Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: This is Part 1 of my first ever series. I think it came out pretty well so I'm hoping that you all like it too. I'll post an update for when Part 2 is ready to be posted. All characters are aged up.

Next Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Dom!Neteyam, Spitting, Slapping, Spanking, Praise Kink, Masturbation (m and f), Bondage, I think that's all for this part

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Even though many men in the clan want you, you don't believe any of them has what it takes to break you. So Neteyam takes on your challenge.

You come home to find an arrangement of flowers on your sleep mat and rolled your eyes at the sight immediately knowing who they were from. Neteyam had been dropping in courting gifts for a while now. Flowers, woven accessories, beads, food, you name it. You had no idea why out of all the na’vi he could have, he chose you. There was practically a line of girls pining for just a sliver of his attention. The best dancers, singers, braiders, etc. You were a great fighter, but men did not usually look for warrior skills in a mate. Why Neteyam of all people would choose you made no sense. Most men in the village considered you too wild. And you didn’t mind this. You were content with not having a mate yet. As far as you were concerned, there wasn’t a man among them that you felt could handle you.

Brushing your messy locs out of your face with your hand, you take a deep breath. The gestures in and of themselves were sweet, but they were not your type of thing. Nevertheless, you place the arrangement of flowers over to the side with the other gifts and you decide to go for a stroll through the forest.

There was one spot that you would often visit when you needed time away from everyone and everything. There was a small clearing in a patch of tall grass. It was essentially deserted, and it gave you a private place to be alone with your thoughts.

You sit in the clearing with your knife and a branch that you start to sharpen into a spear. Carving always helped you think. Sitting there lost in your thoughts, you almost miss the sound of rustling in the grass. Jumping up to your feet, you turn towards the sound with your knife in hand, ready to attack if you need to.

“Woah, woah, no need to be so hostile. It is only me.” Neteyam said stepping out of the grass and into the clearing with you.

You relax your stance and drop your weapon and go back to carving your spear taking a deep breath to mentally prepare for this conversation. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to come talk with you.” He comes closer and takes a seat next to you. “I want to know what is it that you like? You ignore my advances and my gifts. You don’t even so much as look at any man. What is it that will finally grab your attention?”

You can hear the agitation in his voice despite his best efforts to hold it together and come off as sweet.

You raise your eyebrows while you think about his question. You never take your eyes off your spear, though. “I want a man who is my equal. I need someone that can handle me; challenge me. And I don’t think that’s you. Or any man around here for that matter.”

Neteyam chews on your answer for a moment. “If that is it, then I can do that.” You scoff, his confidence is almost comical to you right now. Neteyam was one of the best warriors of the clan and you respected him in that capacity. But to think that he would be the one to try and break you? That was something you had to see.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Neteyam shoots you a smirk that you catch out of the corner of your eye before he stands and takes his leave.

Well, this should be good.

…

It’s been about 2 weeks now since you and Neteyam had your talk in the forest. Since then, there have been no more courting gifts and Neteyam barely even acknowledges you anymore. Otherwise, he seems to still be acting normally with everybody else. Why is he suddenly leaving you alone? But this is what you wanted, right? But something about it all felt off.

You found yourself going back to the clearing again to think. You had several branches with you to carve since you could feel that you were going to be there for a while. You hear a familiar rustling in the grass again and you know that it’s him. You don’t even bother to ready yourself this time, you just stand up and face the direction of the sound waiting for him to appear. “I know that it is you Net—” you were cut off by a powerful force tackling you down to the ground. In an instant you were on your back and Neteyam was on top of you holding your wrists on the ground next to your head. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were scanning your face.

The surprise attack definitely caught you off guard, but it didn’t take you long to flip into fight mode. “Get off.” You demand him. He only tightens his grip on your wrists. Seeing that you’ll have to fight your way out of this situation, you swing your legs up to wrap around his waist and pull him off you. You follow the direction of his body and sit on top of him gaining the upper hand. Holding your knife close by his throat you whisper in his ear, “Good try.”

It doesn’t take long, though, before he rolls himself over and you’re sent crashing to the ground again. This time when he is on top of you, both of his knees are pinning your arms down and his hand is gripping your jaw forcing you to look at him. Your knife fell out of your reach. Now you’re out of breath and in a position that you can’t break out of. You squirm and try to battle out of your current position, but to no avail.

You hiss at him in frustration and he hisses at you right back inches from your face. His eyes are dark and focused. He’s never been like this and you had never felt so helpless. Your face starts to heat up and you clench your jaw. “What do you want?”

“It seems you need somebody to knock you down a peg.”

“And you think it’s gonna be you? Nice try, pretty boy, but I don’t think so. Now, get the fuck off.” You struggle under his grip. His free hand takes ahold of the base of your queue to hold your head still. His grip on your queue lights a fire in your chest and makes you feel a throbbing between your legs.

“First, we need to do something about that smart ass mouth of yours.” He says eyes fixed on your lips.

His thumb makes its way between your lips and in your mouth. He says only one word “Suck.”

You weren’t ready to just let him have his way just yet. In response, you bite his finger which he quickly pulls back from. You grin up at him feeling triumphant until you see him raise his hand.

His hand makes contact with your cheek with one swift slap. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but it stung all the same. You lay there wide-eyed and slack-jawed. You couldn’t believe that the ever patient and gentle Neteyam would actually strike you. While the feeling in your cheek had a twinge of pain, it also kind of turned you on.

He places his thumb back into your mouth and repeats, “Suck.”

This time, you do as you’re told and close your lips around his thumb sucking and licking.

“Good girl. So you can listen.” He moves his thumb in and out of your lips slowly watching it glisten from your saliva.

He keeps his eyes on you watching your every move. You’ve never felt this sensation that was building in your stomach before. No one has ever had you in this position. None of them had the guts, but Neteyam was here right in front of you, making it happen. And that was pretty hot.

Neteyam pulls his thumb out of your mouth. He uses the hand gripping your queue and pulls on it to lift your head back. Now you were full on blushing and you hated it. It was one of the deepest embarrassments you’ve ever felt, but you’ve never been as hot and bothered as you were right now.

“Open your mouth. Tongue out.” It was like your body no longer listened to you. Even though your brain was screaming ‘no way’, your mouth opened up and your tongue stayed out.

You watched in near horror as a long line of spit fell from his mouth and into yours.

“Now swallow.” You were in no position to defy him even if you wanted to. So you swallow.

Neteyam leans down with the most sly smile you’ve ever seen and he growls at you, “You will be mine. That is not a question. Understand?” He was mere inches away from your face and you just stared at him for a moment hoping you could just say nothing and he would leave it be. You had no such luck, though. He pulled harder on your queue and you nod your head waiting for him to release you. He lets you go and climbs off you. He walks away and you continue to lie there for what feels like hours trying to process what the hell just happened.

You returned to your hut carrying the assortment of spears that you carved today. You notice a single flower sitting on your sleep mat. Instead of rolling your eyes at the gift, this time, you sit and smell it. You admire its petals and drown yourself in its scent.

…

The next time Neteyam sees you, you are collecting fruit for the upcoming ceremony for the clan. In just a few weeks’ time, the day will come for the young men in the clan to take their place among the people and take a mate. You actually don’t look so on edge today like you usually do. You actually look approachable. And your usually messy locs were out of your face, showing off your soft features. Someone calls your name in the distance and you turn to find the source of the call. And that’s when he sees it. The flower. You’re wearing the flower in your hair.

He smiles to himself and continues on his way.

…

You found yourself taking notice of Neteyam more often in recent days. You would search for his face in a crowd. Would go to the clearing in the tall grass more often. Tried to tell yourself that it was just to clear your head which was full of millions of thoughts. But in truth, you were hoping for another encounter with Neteyam. At times, you would catch him going about his day and he would shoot you a smile and you would have to look at the ground to avoid him seeing your flushed face.

This was so unlike you. You have never been the type to actually hope for attention from anyone. What the hell had he done to you? It was like some sort of dark spell had been cast over you. This cat and mouse game continued on for yet another 2 weeks and it was driving you crazy.

 You stand in your hut completely bare. Food had spilled onto your clothes and you had to strip them off to change. In the midst of searching for new garments to put on, you hear the flap to your home flip open. You instinctively grab the sheet from your sleep mat to cover yourself. And of course, standing in the entrance is none other than Neteyam.

You clench the sheet around your body a little tighter and your heart starts to beat a little bit faster. “Can’t you see I am in the middle of something?”

He stands there unphased by your words or attempt at modesty and he stalks over towards you. “Come now, there is no need to cover a body that will be mine.” The words drip from his lips as if it’s already determined.

You scoff at his words, “Neteyam, get out.” He comes closer and you try to step back, but your back is already against the wall. He uses one finger to tug on the sheet while eyeing your hidden figure. “Let me see.”

Now, you’re positive he has lost his mind. He couldn’t be serious. “No.”

His eyes turn dark and he narrows his gaze at you. He uses one hand to grab you by the throat and lift you against the wall. He didn’t lift you high enough to strangle you, but it was high enough that you were on your toes trying to take some pressure off. He came so close to your face that the tip of his nose lightly kissed yours when he spoke.

“That’s not a fucking option. You do not tell me ‘no’. Your body belongs to me.”

You mindlessly lick your lips feeling that familiar warmth in your chest and throbbing between your legs. The pressure on your neck was increasing by the second, but his grip didn’t let up. “Now, drop the sheet.” He demands.

Your hands fall to your side and the sheet drops to the floor beneath you. His greedy eyes race up and down your body. The fullness of your chest, your nipples sticking straight out, your broad hips, plush thighs, and dripping pussy. It was enough to make him let out a deep, lusty growl.

“Now, here’s how this is going to work” he cautiously removes his hand from your throat. “The better you listen, the more likely you are to get a reward.”

You had to admit to even yourself, you were curious about what this reward would be. Regardless, you were not going to submit so easily. You hiss at him, a warning, but also a challenge. A dark grin plays across his face. “Such a nasty attitude. Let’s fix that.”

He grabs your wrists with one of his hands and you struggle against his grip. You pull, but he yanks your hands above your head. He grabs a piece of rope that was hung on your wall and uses it to tie your hands together.

When he’s made sure that you’re secured, he throws you over his shoulder. You beat on his back and thrash as much as you can, but he still holds you in place. He walks with you over to your mat and he lays you on your stomach across his lap. “Now, I would like an apology.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “As if.”

Next thing you know, a sharp sting fills your body. Did he just spank you? You turn your head to look behind you and see his hand raised and at the ready in the air. “What the hell Nete—” you were cut off by another smack.

“That’s not what I asked for.”

“Wait until I get out of this, I am gonna—”

Another smack. He was relentlessly striking you in the exact same spot each time. Your skin felt hot from his repeated blows. Tears start to sting the corners of your eyes from the pain, but you can also feel your juices running down the insides of your thighs.

He hits you again and you muffle your whimpers in your forearms.

“What was that? You’ll have to speak up.”

He spanks you one more time and the feeling finally becomes more than you can bear. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry Neteyam! Please!” you finally yell out feeling your pride crumble under his touch.

He touches you again, but instead of smacking you, he gently smooths his hand over the previously abused skin. “Good girl.”

‘Good girl.’ The name rings through your head.

He lifts you off his lap and sits you upright in front of him. He still leaves your hands tied together, though. His eyes trail over you for a minute and you can feel your stomach flipping under his watchful eye. You can’t figure out why this time feels so different. You were used to men eyeing you. Lustful gazes that longed to devour your form. But this, was nothing like that. Neteyam’s eyes were usually so soft and full of light. But right now, the man standing in front you, you hardly recognize him. He has the eyes of a wild beast. A predator ready to pounce on his prey. And you felt just as vulnerable. You ball your body up as much as you can wanting to hide from his line of sight.

His eyes fall on your legs, “open them”. You hesitated, but you didn’t want to test his patience and risk being spanked again. You let your knees fall to the side and the cool night air brushing against your heat made you shiver.

“Fuck” you hear him mumble under his breath.

No one else has ever seen you in such a way. Your face burns with embarrassment but also desire.

Neteyam grabs your bound hands and brings them down between your legs, “spread it open.”

Your head feels like it’s spinning at the scene unfolding in front of you. It feels like you’re not in control of yourself anymore. Two of your fingers spread open your lips revealing the pink of your core.

Neteyam backs up admiring you and the position he has you in. He licks his lips as he undoes the tie on his loincloth. His dick springs to life finally being released from its confinement. Your eyes go wide at the sight of it. Who would’ve known that the future Olo’eyktan was packing so much. He’s not lacking in length or girth. It’s enough to make you quicken your breathing. The tip was already dripping precum and now it was your turn to lick your lips. You suddenly couldn’t stop imagining the feeling of it stretching your mouth. What he must taste like.

He slowly starts to stroke himself never tearing his eyes away from you and your aching hole that clenched begging to be filled. He hovers on top of you still pumping his fist up and down his shaft. His tip is only centimeters away from your pussy, but the lack of friction, was torturous. It burned deep inside of you until you couldn’t stand it anymore and let your fingers go to work moving in and out of you.

Neteyam glances down at your fingers, and shoots you a smug smirk, “you must really want that reward, huh yawne?”

‘Yawne.’ Another name to shake you to your core.

His face is nestled in your neck and you can feel his heavy breathing. Every hair on your body is standing on end.

The only sounds in the air are pants and moans from both of you. You can feel the pressure building in your body wanting release. “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

Neteyam pulls his face back to watch yours. His free hand runs his fingers thru your hair, brushing stray locs out of your face. “You’re doing such a good job ma yawntutsyip. Let me see you cum for me, sevin.” His fingers thread their way to the root of your hair and he grips it firmly.

All of the stimuli is too much. Your orgasm washes over you and it’s overwhelming. Your fingers stretching your pussy as best they can, the grip he has on your hair, and all his words of praise, it’s enough to drive you mad. As your body shakes and trembles, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you feel as if you just might lose yourself. You squirt all over Neteyam’s lower body and he growls in your ear.

“Such a good fucking girl. I guess you’ve earned your reward.” There’s a sharp sting on your shoulder and you wince. You look down to see Neteyam sinking his teeth into your skin. He was officially marking you. The logical part of your mind wants to push him off. But you’re so lost to your hormones that you can’t find any strength to move him. Instead, you angle your head over so that he has even easier access to you. You revel in the feeling and it damn near rips another orgasm from your body.

Neteyam approaches his own orgasm and releases his bite on your shoulder. He leans back still stroking himself until he cums right on top of your pussy. He pants trying to catch his breath and takes in the sight of his seed dripping down between your soaked folds.

You let your head fall back also trying to steady your breathing. You sit up and gather your thoughts. Once you feel like you have your wits about you again, you shoot Neteyam a dirty glare. He tsks and holds your chin with his fingers, “Now, don’t be like that.” He lifts your face up and to the side to admire his handywork on your shoulder. He smiles proudly to himself. “Now everybody will know who you belong to.”

You clench your jaw feeling humiliated knowing that you’ll have no way of covering the mark he left on you and you were now covered in his scent. “Just untie me already.”

“Whatever you want, yawne.”

He uses his knife to cut your binds and you rub your wrists finally feeling relief. You watch him pull his loincloth back on.

“Well, I should be going. Sleep well, sevin.” He grins at you before turning to exit your home.

You sit dumbfounded. What in the world was happening? No man has ever dared to even try treating you this way. Most were too afraid to even think of it. But Neteyam was bold enough to attempt it. And the worst part of it all….it was starting to work.

[the-fiction-witch]

Bunny & Bear P2

Media - The Artful Dodger Character - Doctor Jack Dawkins Couple - Jack X Reader Reader - Y/n (Nurse) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 929

Jack reluctantly made his way to work, putting on clothes he didn't care much about before heading into the hospital. He winced as he grabbed a mask from the front desk, a requirement for all nurses and doctors due to the blue flu. The hospital had a distinct foul smell that had turned even healthy stomachs, and there was a risk of getting flu fluids on the skin, which could be fatal.

Each small ward of the Port Victory Royal Hospital usually held ten beds per ward. Three wards in total, each run by one of the doctors, Dr Sneed, Dr Dawkins and Professor Mcgregor. Along with five private recovery rooms each with one bed. Giving the hospital a common capacity of Thirty-five patients at any one time.

Jack walked through the corridors of the hospital the sights, smells, and sounds reminding him of the deepest and dark London slums. Each of the wards was full to bursting beds ramed mattress to mattress from wall to wall, with only a small strip in the middle to walk, six beds in each of the private rooms, the surgical theatre being used as a fourth ward, corridors filled with anyone who could still sleep on the floors. 

The hospital was filled to bursting point with people sick from this flu, the scent of sickness, of vomit and shit, filled every room. Groans, moans, coughs and wheezes come from those infected. All of them are in the varying stages of delirium. 

Jack got on with what little work he could really do, most of it being a porter to take bodies down to the overflowing morgue, paperwork for new patients, and giving mostly painkillers to aid people's passing as little else could really be done. 

"Pleased you could join us, doctor," Y/n spoke up as Jack arrived at his ward she was busy as ever bustling around the many beds doing what little she could do mask over her face, 

"You're still working?" he asked,

"I have to be, we're down to four nurses. Hetty, Lisa, Alice and me. but Alice is locked in with Sneed so." 

"You need to rest Y/n,"

"I'll be fine,"

"Alright, just did Sneed's ward we have six more dead in there,"

"Great, I'll call Tim up," 

"What's the status on prof?"

"Still out, but Lisa is on stand-by near his office to force coffee down his throat as soon as he stirs,"

"Right... I'll go see Sneed. We can't handle this on our own." 

"Good luck, he won't even answer his door now."

"Well, I'll break his door down if he doesn't, way too many people down here for him to be doing his Adam and Eve act." he nodded,

"Alright," she nodded, but she coughed,

The sound sent a shiver down Jack's spine and he grabbed her arm to force her to stop working, "what was that?"

"Nothing." 

"Y/n." He glared,

"Forg in my throat that's all," she said, "Probably just the smell,"

He sighed putting a hand to her head feeling the head coming from her skin,

"Don't you start." She snapped forcing his hand away, "I'm hot because I'm working that's all," 

"skin, Now." He demanded, 

She rolled her eyes pulled down her mask and showed each side of her hands showing no signs of the blue tint, 

"Alright," he nodded putting her mask back up for her, "Just... be careful,"

"I know," she nodded trying to go but he kept hold of her arm,

"No, I'm serious. Be careful Y/n." He warns, "Finish what you're doing and go for a break in the courtyard, I'll come to get you when I've dealt with Sneed you're not to go back in before you understand me?"

"I-"

"Do you understand little bunny?" 

"Yes, Jack,"

"Good, go on." He let her go, and headed out of the ward to go see Sneed just catching her mutter under her breath, 

"Grumpy grizzly bear,"

"I heard that! Break. now."

"I'm going! I'm going!" 

He rolled his eyes and headed up to Sneed's room, and he didn't even bother to knock as he pulled down his mask putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against the stairs railing, kicking the door, "Rainsford!"

"Fuck off Dawkins!"

"Come out"

"No."

"Why?"

"Ohh I'm sorry have you missed the literal plague in the hospital,"

"No, I didn't but you're a doctor so come out and do your job,"

"I am not dying for this!"

"If you take precautions you won't," 

"Not proven,"

"Sneed... as much as I hate to admit it... we... need you," he sighed,

"Oh, do you know?"

"Don't be petty," 

"I think I can be, I'm safe, I'm happy, and I have my New Eve to keep me entertained,"

"HI!" Alice giggled 

"Hey Alice," He sighed, "You coming out either,"

"She's staying with me," Sneed interrupted, 

"Both of you need to come out and do your jobs, We need you. We have over a hundred people shoved into this place."

"And we wait another two days enough will die that we'll have sixty,"

"So you're just going to let them die? Seriously Sneed?" 

"What do you want me to do? risk my life to do what! to be at their side to watch more people die?"

"So you're happy to let me do it?" 

"Nothing is stopping you from taking Y/n and locking yourself in your room,"

"No. I am not doing that." He sighed, "Look Sneed. I am giving you a choice, you unlock the door, come down and deal with the patience. Or I am kicking down your door and dragging you down."

"...fine. Give us ten minuets."

"Five. If your not down in the ward I drag you down."

"Alright!"

Jack nodded and headed back down into the hospital to go and check up on y/n. 

Commission Page

[farawayfroppy]

Evergreen – I am swept up in you; please don't dispose of me

part 2 ↣ part 1

izuku midoriya x reader

cw: aged up characters, pro-hero au, lots and lots of angst, some canon-typical violence and deaths, Izuku experiences triggers, panic attacks, and nightmares, Reader has a dream-altering quirk, adult language, Reader is referred to as she/her. i see a lot of myself in midoriya so i gave him the therapy that i need

~3k words

hey all! been a while. oops. i started my first year of teaching, so i have had no time to write. i wasn't even planning on posting this i til i had written more of it, but i wanted you to know that i tried lol. i know it's not much, but i hope you enjoy. - Jean xx

Just like that, Izuku found himself back at work.

He knew it was probably too soon, knew it wouldn’t look good to the press or feel like anything other than painful for himself, but he also knew he had a job to do. One of the bastards that had aided in stealing two lives, right in front of him, had gotten away and he hadn’t even known. Hell, beyond that, there was an entire crime ring that seemed to be growing, getting bolder, right under all of their noses.

As much as he didn’t want to relive any of it, to think about it even in the slightest, he knew that as the only hero on the scene that day, he was also a witness. Shouto had wanted information, and now he had it—first hand.

Once inside the doors of his agency, away and safe from the cameras and prying eyes, he made a beeline for his office. He took the stairs today, not bothering with the elevator, where he might have felt like an animal in a cage. That panicked feeling was happening again as he ascended the stairs. Up and up, around and around, it was all blurring together. When he finally reached his floor, he burst through the door, startling an intern standing near a water fountain that was placed a little too closely to the exit.

Izuku mumbled, “Sorry,” but didn’t slow his pace.

He tried not to think about the astounded looks he received from his coworkers as he flew down the hallway. He realized then that he probably should have notified someone, at least his secretary, of his return. As he neared his office, he passed by her, and she rose from her desk with a surprised expression.

“Oh, Deku, you’re back already?” She asked, trying to disguise the shock in her voice. Thinly veiled, painted over with politeness in a way he knew all too well. The customer service voice was like the landlord special of communication, skirting around and covering up the real issues.

He knew it was for his benefit. She was gentle and kind, but he couldn’t handle it. He didn’t feel like he deserved gentle. He didn’t have the capacity to accept kindness, didn’t know how to hold it while already juggling so much. But he wasn’t mean.

“Yep,” he replied, trying to muster up a smile. Tight-lipped, but passable. “Sorry about the disruption, Jane, but I’ll be pretty busy now, so don’t let anyone in. Thanks!” He rushed out before all but diving into the sanctity of his office.

“But—“ he heard her start just as he closed his door, locking it for good measure.

Izuku sighed, slumping against the door with his head down. He felt like crying. He felt small again. How could a man who had accomplished so much, who drew so many eyes, feel so minuscule unto himself? It was hard to live like this, feeling bad for feeling bad, for complaining when he had such privilege and responsibility. There was no end.

“Hey, squirt,” he heard a gruff voice say.

Startled, he shot up, being met with the sight of Bakugou standing near his desk.

“Wh—how did you know I would be here?” He stammered, floored by his friend’s presence and immediately sobered. “Also, I told you to stop calling me that, because—“

Bakugou cut him off, “It’s gross and weird, I know.” He snickered, his shit-eating grin somehow a sight for Izuku’s sore eyes at that moment. “Your mom called me,” he explained, and Izuku cursed to himself quietly.

He should have known. Mama Inko always needed a spy on the inside to make sure he wasn’t lying about being okay. Which, to her credit: he was totally lying about being okay.

“She said you were coming back here today and asked me to make sure you weren’t throwing up and pissing everywhere," he said, and Izuku raised a questioning eyebrow at that.

“My words, not hers,” Bakugou continued. “And you haven’t puked yet, which is a good sign I guess, but do I spy a little pee running down your leg?” He taunted, making his way closer to his green-haired companion to place a large, gloved hand over his face.

Izuku groaned, prying Bakugou’s hand off of him, “Why do you always have to be so gross? And do you ever wash your gloves?”

His friend scoffed in response, “Tch. Haven't you heard I smell like caramel?"

Izuku shuddered, "Caramelized onion maybe. Go take a bath."

Bakugou gave him a long, pointed look before speaking again," So you're really gonna be okay this time, eh?"

Izuku felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, knowing his expression was probably all too readable to his friend of many years, at least if his stupid smirk was anything to go by.

"What do you mean?" he said indignantly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You look like you're here," Bakugou started, "and you may even feel like you're here," he continued, giving Izuku just enough of a shove to make him lose his balance momentarily.

"Hey–" he started to protest, stopping when Bakugou jabbed at his forehead, right between the eyes.

"But up here, you're somewhere else. And usually, you stay there longer," he explained, pulling his hand back to cross his arms, "but you're coming back to us. I can tell 'cause you sound like an idiot again–less deranged, though–but still stupid. I'm way past hoping you'll give up on being perfect or whatever, but you're making a little more sense than you were when I came by your apartment," he said, rolling his eyes as he continued, "Ya know, before you so rudely kicked me out and left me arguing with the fuckin' door. Anyway, that's a good enough sign for me to tell your mom not to get her panties in a twist," he finished.

"Because you care so much," Izuku stressed the words, "I am fine, just like I said when you barged into my apartment before," he paused. Then, with a face of disgust and exasperation, he screeched, "And can you not talk about my mom's panties?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bakugou relented. "How 'bout that neighbor chick that lives next to ya?" he smirked. "Bet hers have little cherries on 'em. And let me tell ya, they were all tied up in knots over you."

Izuku froze, feeling his ears get hot with a blush as your face came to mind–all pinched up in concern–and he immediately stared at his shoes.

"My neighbor?" he asked in disbelief, "When did you talk to her?" He peeked up.

Bakugou grinned, knowing he had struck gold with this line of conversation, "After you locked me out of your place. She came home and saw me arguing away with your closed door–asked if you were okay."

"And?" Izuku prompted, watching as his friend shoved his hands in his pockets so nonchalantly, like he didn't just say something potentially life-ruining. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Bakugou shrugged, watching Izuku's mouth open in shock. "Didn't know you had the hots for her. Not just gonna give some creep info on you in your time of dire need."

Izuku must have visibly deflated, because he continued, "Don't implode; I wasn't mean to her. She looked all...concerned and shit, so you still got a shot."

Izuku sighed, half-relieved that he didn't scare you off and half-annoyed by his friend's tendency to be nosy.

"She's just nice, okay?" He asserted. "Not that you're ever gonna shut up about this, regardless of what I say," he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "And don't talk about her panties either," he ordered.

Bakugou mockingly put his hands up in defeat, "Got it, squirt. I'm heading out now, anyway, now that I've busted up your pity party," he gestured vaguely as he headed toward the door. "I'll tell your mom you haven't keeled over and died yet," he said finally.

He unlocked the door and started to turn the handle as Izuku went to his desk and took a seat, newly determined and ready to get to work.

Bakugou opened the door and began to step out, pausing as he said, "I'm glad you're better now. Than you were that day, I mean." He then added, without any real bite, "Won't have to pick up your slack."

And Izuku didn't know what to say. He nodded, and the other man left. Slumping in his chair, Izuku breathed deeply, not feeling as much of the weight that had been there before, but deep down, he knew that calling himself 'better' was too generous. He understood, though.

The last time he saw Bakugou was right after he had gotten home. Post-incident, post-bullet wound–could you blame him for not making sense? And he was so angry. Just so angry, like he hadn't been in a long time. His friend had come by to try to put an early end to his downward spiral, but he wouldn't listen to any of it. He couldn't. It's like his eyes and ears and, hell, his entire head had been filled with cotton. There had been one time like it in the past, a time that Bakugou had bore witness to just how much the job really affected Izuku.

A few years back, fresh out of school, they had been called on to a kidnapping case. This girl in a small town had disappeared, and people feared it might have been the work of a trafficking ring from a nearby city. They were right. The two of them managed to infiltrate the house that they had been holding the girl hostage in. They even found her.

Izuku still remembers how he had scooped her up, promising that she would be safe again. Promising that she would feel safe again. Bakugou had been fighting close by, securing their exit, a plan they had become accustomed to by then.

They both agreed that Izuku was better at the hands-on rescuing stuff, a more calming presence during a really traumatic time for the victims they saved. And Bakugou was doing what he did best, fighting with an almost reckless abandon. They were almost out, the majority of the suspects involved had been subdued either on the way in or by Bakugou's hands on the way out. But they missed one.

They missed a man who waited for them right at the top of the stairs, one who shot without hesitation. The bullet should have hit Izuku right in the chest, but he was holding the girl he had promised to save. It hit her instead, saving his life but ending hers almost instantly.

It wasn't instant, though. And he remembers how she had looked up at him, with shock, disbelief, pain, and fear. But more than that, he remembered the look of hope. And he doesn't know if it was confusion, or ill-advised optimism that would never cease despite the odds, but she spoke her last words to him then.

"Don't worry," she had choked out, with a smile and the tears on her cheeks that betrayed it.

"Deku will save us."

Izuku felt too warm, trying to shake his head to rid himself of the memory.

"Work," he reminded himself. "Work, work."

He knew that his best chance of preventing anything like that from happening again was to stop it before it started. He had to find the evil in the world and snuff it out before it could spread. But evil doesn't exist in a vacuum.

Evil is born and raised. It's shut out, dealt a bad hand. Loved or unloved; seen or unseen. Evil is a product of generations of the product of an evening. It can sometimes be found in minds and hearts, but always in places it shouldn't be.

It had been hard for Izuku to learn that evil wouldn't be going anywhere despite his best efforts. Like the the night to the day, it just is. He didn't know if it was necessary, and understood that ultimately, he would not be the one to decide. He could only be evil's consequence, but that had consequences for him as well. Everything balanced out, one way or another. All he could do was try to tip the scales in favor of the righteous and the good.

He spent the next few hours pouring over any and all footage from the incident, as well as witness testimonies. From that, he could gather a decent description of the second perpetrator despite his face being partially obscured. The guy was too coward to even show his face, so he'd worn sunglasses and a baseball cap. He did, however, neglect to cover the tattoos that covered his arms, and some were familiar.

At this point, Izuku had seen criminals of all kinds, and was starting to be able to tell who ran with who just based on their tattoos and general demeanor. But while these looked familiar, he couldn't exactly place them. They were slightly different than those of the main gang that ran in his area, so he decided he would send an enhanced (as enhanced as possible based on grainy footage from the scene) photograph of the tattoo he was looking at to both Dynamight and Shouto's agencies. Maybe they would recognize it.

There wasn't much else to go on at the moment, so as difficult as it was, Izuku turned back to the less pressing but very necessary task of filing reports from past cases. Cases--at times very loosely called so--could mean anything from a traffic violation to a minor dispute. Of which, there were many, especially in a big city. It wasn't glamorous, but it was work that needed doing. And, in his absence, the reports had started to pile up.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Paperwork."

To Izuku, the minutes seemed to pass more quickly than usual, which was probably due to the fact that he could basically hear the humming of his heartbeat. His leg was bouncing too, unconsciously, a dull anxiety nipping at his throat while his heart turned over in his chest. His vital organs thrumming with energy made him feel connected to the moment in a way he wished he could reject. It came out of nowhere, that thief of focus. Not completely unwelcome, but uncomfortable in a way that made him start to realize the sweat on his skin and the scratch of his collar.

He had been productive, at least, and had burned through the daylight. He checked the time, eyes growing a bit when he realized how long he had been working. He was completely caught up on paperwork and had even started to get ahead on some things, so he should've known that he had gone way beyond working hours.

He packed his things and left, noticing how he seemed to be the last one in the office. Jane had really taken it to heart when he asked not to be bothered. In some ways, he was relieved. He felt like he'd had enough conversation for the day, so he found a guilty pleasure in walking out in silence. It seemed that even the camera and news crews had taken their leave, and Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

Once he arrived home, he had only just turned the key when your door was thrown open. He flinched, visibly startled, before taking you in.

You looked flustered as you rushed out, "Oh, did I scare you? I'm sorry." Sheepishly you added, "I totally wasn't waiting for you to come home or anything. Just wanted to...look...at the hallway." You nodded then, as if trying to convince yourself, "You know, for fresh air..."

Izuku laughed, slightly confused, but like felt that was the right move.

"Do you want to come over?" You asked suddenly, and he saw something hopeful swimming in your eyes, which were much more open now than the last time he had seen you. He was thankful for that.

Before he could even agree, you said, "I promise I won't fall asleep on you this time."

He really laughed at that as he nodded, "Sure. Give me 10 minutes? I just need to put my stuff away and change."

"No," you whined playfully, slipping back into your apartment. "Don't change. I like you how you are!"

Izuku just laughed at your antics as your door closed, glad to see you much more full of energy. He hoped you were able to get the rest you needed, but knew that fixing that level of deprivation would take a bit of time. You can't catch up on sleep, after all.

[brightstar2000]

(Not so) Little SAMS rant.

I think I am starting to side with the idea that Moon might have the ruin virus. Or something like it. And his grief is also magnifying the effects more, and probably accelerating its' spread.. I have seen the post where the thumbnails show Moon turning more purple tinted as he gets worse. So, i may side with that. I am not using it to replace his grief though. Moon still is grieving. However, that grief still does not excuse his behavior as of late.

Think about it this way: They all are grieving over Solar, and so they are all in more vulnerable mental states. That is why Moon's words hurt so bad. That is why they gave up so soon. They do not have the proper mental capacity to handle it right now, and won't for a while. Solar's death is still very fresh for all of them, and grief can last for up to several years.

Moon is grieving in one of the worst possible ways, yes, but it still does not, and should not excuse his behavior towards his family, who are still hurting like he is. They are handling it better, and working through it together, meanwhile Moon was deliberately avoiding them and drove them away when they came after him anyways. He made it worse for himself of his own will. They all are having their struggles with Solar's death, and while I am also very unhappy with the fact they pretty much disowned him, i can see why they did. Moon kept refusing help when they extended the offer every single time, and went as far as chasing them away. Before that, he was lying to them.

And him having that psychosis break is also why he is better kept locked up right now. He is a danger to everyone around him now. He threatened to hurt Computer and Jack, he went out of his way to hurt Eclipse, and he also threatened to hurt Monty while making the approach to do so too. And would have, if not for the barrier. And now he chose to become a villain.. even when his family don't see him as a bad guy, they just want to stop him from doing something stupid, and this is how he took it.

Yes, i wish his family helped him more, but they are also in a vulnerable mental state for the same reason Moon is, and they are more emotionally sensitive in general, especially Earth.

If they continued trying to force help on Moon, then he still would have probably snapped, and hurt one of them pretty badly.

I also am upset Sun had to lock Moon up, but like he said, he had no other options by then, because Moon was not going to stop, no matter what, and now, he really doesn't have any options.. With Moon becoming that dangerous to be around now.

I hate this arc, we all do, but i am tired of seeing the posts defending Moon because of his grief. His grief is not an excuse for his recent behavior. Grief can cause it, but it does not excuse it. He could have tried to work through it healthily, but he rejected that in his pursuit to get Solar back, even after his nightmares. Every time. Yes, he needs help. He needs it badly, i will not deny that. He deeply cared about Solar, but they cannot help him when he keeps pushing back against it. And they cannot help when Moon deliberately keeps trying to hide from them and not tell them where he is. He did this to himself, and these are the consequences of his actions. I hate it, i really do, but that is how it is.

And no, i also am really not happy that their current solution is trying to bring Old Moon back. I really liked New Moon, and it hurts really badly seeing him venture down this path to destruction of his own making. However, given the state he is in now, he never would have recovered. He would not have gotten his family back. He did too much damage.. Old Moon has a chance, and i would rather take that chance than see Moon end up alone..